


Sweet Tooth

by inquisitor_tohru



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Arkanis (Star Wars), Armitage Hux Has Two Moms, Brendol Hux's A+ Parenting, Developing Relationship, F/F, Family Dynamics, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Domestic Violence, Pre-Canon, To Make Up For Brendol, Two Badass Moms, Young Armitage Hux
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-12
Updated: 2020-03-24
Packaged: 2021-02-27 12:07:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,328
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22226854
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inquisitor_tohru/pseuds/inquisitor_tohru
Summary: When Maratelle visited the woman pregnant with Brendol's child, she wasn't entirely sure what she expected. But it certainly wasn't this.
Relationships: Armitage Hux's Mother/Maratelle Hux
Comments: 4
Kudos: 26





	1. Burned Edges

"It's probably of little comfort to you," Aoife said awkwardly. She put down two cups of steaming tarine tea, and sat down opposite the dark-haired woman. "But I didn't know he was married." Maratelle shrugged.

"And why would you? He never wears his wedding band. Please don't misunderstand the reasons for my visit - I have no interest in who my husband has sex with." She pursed her lips. "Unless...it  _ was _ consensual?"

"Against my better judgement," she sighed.

"I will not hold it against you. He can appear charming, when he actually cares to make the effort. I'm simply immune."

"I've heard several years of marriage can have that effect, yes." Maratelle laughed.

"I meant I have never been charmed by him, or any man for that matter." Aoife sipped her tea and gave her a sad smile.

"I'm sorry."

"That I'm a lesbian? Don't be. I am perfectly at ease with who I am."

"No- I-" Aoife glanced about the room, as if she might find the right words hovering above the ovens or the spice rack. "I meant I was sorry you weren't able to marry for love. It may amuse you, given the circumstances," she said, placing a hand on the soft curve of her bump. "But I do understand. Whenever I've considered the idea of marriage, I've seen myself with a woman." Maratelle smirked.

"Interesting. I'll keep that in mind." Aoife laughed, as Maratelle had hoped she would, easing some of the tension. The air between them seemed lighter, fresher. Though they'd met under less than favourable circumstances, she could admit Aoife was attractive. 

She stood around a foot taller than Maratelle, and her arms were well toned from kneading bread all day. Her hazel eyes and auburn hair, tightly braided beneath her hairnet, seemed to accentuate her sharp, vulpine features…  _ Focus, Maratelle.  _

"I understand if you'd rather not ask my husband, but if you do need anything," she paused, nodding towards Aoife's egg-shaped belly. "You can ask me."

"And I'll keep  _ that  _ in mind." It was obvious that Aoife was simply being polite and had no intention of asking for help from herself or Brendol - and why should she? She probably had family who would support her through the pregnancy. Nevertheless, Maratelle wanted Aoife to know that she had  _ her _ support as well, should she want or need it.

"I'm sorry - I've taken far too much of your time." Her teacup made a pleasant chime as she set it down on its saucer. "You must be busy, with Empire Day coming up." 

"Yes," Aoife said, choosing her words carefully. Maratelle noticed that she didn't seem terribly enthusiastic about the celebration, but she couldn't say that she was especially excited either. The buffets were something she looked forward to, she supposed, so long as she didn't dwell too long on how much her husband would be spending on exotic foods. "We have had quite a lot of orders, but nothing too outrageous."

"Still, I ought to let you get on. Circumstances aside, it has been lovely meeting you. And thank you for the tea." She reached into one of her many well-concealed pockets, smoothly producing a contact card. "And if you need anything...you know where to find me." Aoife took the card, but didn't look at it.

"Thank you. Goodbye, Lady Maratelle." 

* * *

The next time Maratelle visited the bakery it smelled of smoke and burnt gingerbread. Aoife called down the rickety staircase that led to her living quarters, ushering her up into her room. She found Aoife sitting in a rocking chair, still in her nightgown, and nursing the baby. Most mothers Maratelle knew favoured nutritionally balanced powdered milk, specifically designed for infant humans, but it was unlikely that Aoife could afford that on her earnings from the bakery. 

"I'm sorry to intrude. I can come back later if-" 

"It's fine, really. You know, it's actually nice to talk to a real live adult." That surprised Maratelle. It had been a month since the baby was born.

"Aoife, am I your first visitor?"

"You are. Which makes you Armitage's first  _ ever _ visitor."

"I'm honoured. But don't you have family, friends, who could…"

"Help out? No family, and as for my friends...they're great but, ah...not really the babysitting type." 

"They sound like some of my friends, in that respect." Maratelle smiled as baby Armitage wriggled, turning towards her with sleepy eyes and milk on his chin. He wasn't quite hairless like some of the babies she'd seen - no eyebrows as yet, but a head of soft peach fuzz. His sleepsuit was faded and worn, starting to get snug...but it kept him warm. Maratelle had to remind herself that not all babies were dressed in Coruscant  _ haute couture  _ and bundled into expensive prams, pushed around by expensive nanny droids. 

She had a feeling that even if Aoife had the means, that wouldn't be something she'd want. But surely she deserved  _ some _ help.

"Can I get you a cup of tea?" she ventured. She wasn't sure where Aoife kept the tea, but was positive she could find it - she recalled how organised the kitchen had been on her last visit.

"Yes, thank you." As she descended, Maratelle heard Aoife humming  _ jumping in puddles _ , a nursery rhyme every Arkanisian child was familiar with - even the ones whose parents were wealthy enough to live in one of the domed cities. 

At the bottom of the stairs Maratelle turned past the door leading into the shop, currently shut as it was the apprentice baker's day off, and into the kitchen. It was tidy, as it had been on her last visit, but there were baking trays still soaking by the sink, and gingerbread animals with singed edges on the counter. 

The tea was clearly labelled and easy enough to find, and when it was almost done brewing, Aoife tiptoed into the kitchen. 

"Asleep?" Aoife nodded.

"Thank you. I should be the one making you tea." She took the cup in her hands, savouring the warmth, and grinned. "I always was a terrible host."

"Well then...how about one of these?" Maratelle gestured towards the partially burned gingerbread.

"Oh, those. By all means." Aoife laughed, shaking her head. "They'd have been perfect, if only Armitage had woken up five minutes later. Still, they should be  _ edible _ ." Maratelle took a bite out of a cat-shaped biscuit. She'd adored gingerbread since she was a child and it would take more than burned edges to put her off.

"You've sold yourself short. Maybe not quite perfect, but still delicious." She wolfed down another, this one shaped like a teddy bear. "How is he sleeping at night?" Aoife sighed.

"You don't know many people with kids, do you?" 

"I do, but they rarely talk about that sort of thing." Now that she thought about it, their children were probably rocked to sleep by their nanny droids. "I'll admit...I don't know much about babies."

"He doesn't know the difference between day and night yet," Aoife said. In this light, Maratelle could see the bags under her eyes. "He sleeps a lot, but only in short bursts, and then he wakes up hungry."

"That sounds...tiring." Maratelle immediately felt stupid for saying so, but she was unable to think of anything else to say.

"It is," Aoife said, ever patient. "In fact, it's an understatement. But for the most part, he's calm and content. I can't complain." If she were in Aoife's shoes, Maratelle thought, she most certainly  _ would  _ complain.

"If you'd like to go upstairs and rest-" 

"And deprive myself of conversation with an intelligent, beautiful woman? Nonsense." Maratelle didn't blush easily, but she felt her cheeks grow hot.

"You must  _ really _ want me to stay." Aoife grinned.

"I already told you so, didn't I?" Her auburn eyelashes fluttered as she inhaled the earthy scent of the freshly brewed tarine tea before taking a sip. Maratelle wondered if drinking tea had ever looked so good. Maybe Padmé Amidala had come close.

"When I first heard you were expecting I was...a little envious," she admitted. "Not resentful, but I'd been trying to conceive for some time, you see." Aoife pulled out an old wooden chair and sat down, giving Maratelle her full attention. 

"I had recently learned I'd never bear a child. But after meeting you..." She smiled warmly. "And then seeing little Armitage today? I'm just thrilled for you."

"You mean you saw the bags under my eyes and the state of my kitchen?" Aoife bit her lip. "I'm sorry. It must be hard."

"It was. Still is, sometimes. But a child need not be mine by blood for me to care for them. To love them. There are other options." She could tell what was running through Aoife's mind. "I didn't mean- I'd never try to take Armitage away from you."

"No," Aoife said softly. In that single word, Maratelle heard a journey from fear to relief. She surprised herself by even speaking of her situation with Aoife, but she supposed their circumstances were already strange. Fertility treatments and adoption were simply not something that one discussed amongst the Arkanisian aristocracy. Armitage's existence was an open secret - anyone who was anyone in their social circle knew that Brendol Hux had fathered a bastard, but publicly pretended not to be concerned with such scandalous and unsavoury gossip. At more intimate dinner parties, they likely speculated upon Maratelle's inability to produce an heir, and she had no doubt that the fact that her marriage remained unconsummated (and why) was widely known, but that kind of gossip was inconsequential - there was no scandal there, no  _ drama _ .

"I would like to see you both again though." Maratelle fidgeted with an oversized cocktail ring. "Only if you want me to, of course. I know it might seem a bit...odd." Aoife stared into her teacup for a few moments, deep in thought.

"If you're not busy next week you can come to the market with me. I might need someone to carry the bags of flour for me." She winked. "And I don't think Armitage is up to the job just yet." If Lady Maratelle had been a different sort of aristocrat, she might not have entertained the idea of heaving heavy sacks of flour through the market. But to tell the truth, she'd always found such snobbishness rather silly.

"Excellent. I'll visit after the weekend." Aoife's smile widened, and Maratelle could have sworn she looked a little less tired.

"Then it's a date."


	2. Cream Horn

Maratelle raised a freshly plucked eyebrow at the dish in front of her. She’d always found the traditional Arkanisian dish a little macabre, with the little fish poking their heads from the pastry, staring at her with dead eyes. She seated herself beside Enric Pryde - younger than some of the other officers, even if his furrowed brow and serious tone made him seem older. He was a bore, since she had little interest in discussing theoretical military tactics, but at least he wasn’t a creep like Brooks. Still, she could get away with smiling and nodding at these dinner parties. It wasn’t as if any of these men cared what she had to say. When she was a younger woman, it had made her furious. Sometimes it still did. But, over many years, she’d found ways to use it to her advantage.

Simple things, at first. Lieutenant Nooram’s favourite wine was _ Domaine de la Maison sur le Lac.  _ His wife was extremely fond of loth-cats. Then Maratelle would dig deeper, find that  _ actually  _ she was ambivalent towards loth-cats, but had more than a passing interest in a certain handsome loth-cat breeder. And  _ then  _ when she made a point of taking an interest in the lieutenant's collection of (surprisingly exquisite) painted model ships, and flattered him by remembering his favourite wine… Well, that was how she persuaded him to tell her what he overheard about the Grand Inquisitor's impending visit to Arkanis Academy. It was always worth remembering a man's favourite wine.

Or dessert.

Brendol poked at the pastry on his plate, then looked up at Maratelle. "What is  _ this _ ?"

"It's a cream horn, dear." She kept her expression neutral, even as she saw Pryde's facial muscles twitch. It was probably the closest thing to a smile that she'd ever seen from him. "Is it not to your liking?" Brendol shrugged, as if he didn't see the other officers' smirking faces. 

"A little flaky for my tastes." 

"Yes, and with all that jam and cream...it could get rather messy. No matter." She picked up her cream horn, not bothering with the dessert cutlery. "I'll get something different next time. The gingerbread is particularly lovely."

As expected, Brendol let her have an earful as soon as the last of his guests were gone.

"...even for you, that was petty."

"What can I say? I was led to believe you enjoyed cream horns. But perhaps you've  _ had your fill _ ." 

"What is it that you  _ want  _ from me, Maratelle?" He spoke her name like it was something he might find on the sole of his boot. Her skin crawled as he took hold of her wrist, lowering his voice. "If you're trying to play the scorned wife, we both know your heart's not in it." As soon as his grip loosened, she snatched her hand back.

"This isn't about  _ me _ ," she half-laughed, incredulous. "You have wanted an heir for  _ years _ , and now that you have a son, you haven't even been to see him. You haven't spoken to his mother since she told you of her pregnancy." She realised seconds after she'd said the word.  _ Heir.  _ Not a child.

"Well...I suppose now we know _that_ was about you." She could never claim her husband didn't care enough to get to know her. It was so much easier to hurt somebody you knew well. Still, her expression didn't falter. "Don't go back there."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a short one this time, but next...market date 👀


End file.
